


Wait for You

by phantasmagorighoul (ghoullly)



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Bittersweet, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, This takes place during the events of Sister Location
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-13 22:50:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19260751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghoullly/pseuds/phantasmagorighoul
Summary: Michael has a proposition for his boyfriend that he desperately needs him to say yes to.For both of their sakes.





	Wait for You

**Author's Note:**

> (THIS IS UNEDITED BC I'VE JUST WRITTEN FOR THE LAST 4 HOURS AND AM TIRED)
> 
> wow what is UP it's been a minute since i've written anything and i was in the shower today when i was hit with sudden inspiration and haven't stopped writing since i got out, so forgive me if anything reads a bit weird!! i'm suuuuper rusty!!
> 
> some important stuff to note:  
> -michael and phone guy are the same age! michael is 22 and phone guy is 21  
> -phone guy's name is peter guerrero!! he's only referred to as peter though  
> -this takes place more specifically after night 4 during the events of sister location
> 
> i have loved the idea of this ship ever since michael was introduced; i thought it was cute to imagine a little anxious phone guy trying his best to do his job but being distracted by a very attractive young man that had been appearing lately--oh no?? he's the boss's son?? oh well he's gonna give it his best shot anyway and try to get himself a handsome ass boyfriend!! and he does (but they keep it hush hush)
> 
> anyways i could talk forever about michael and phone guy but!! i hope you enjoy!! xx

Peter stirred, squinting eyes gazing over at his window as he adjusted his pillow. Silence.

Then another rock hit his window.

The young man sat up, groaning quietly when he looked at the clock and realized that it was a little after 3 in the morning.

Another rock hit and he managed to get himself out of bed, knees cracking and feet shuffling to the window. Peter pressed his forehead to the cool glass (that was now marked up a bit) and looked down.

His crazy-ass boyfriend was in his front yard, holding a single drooping flower, dressed in his dingy maintenance jumpsuit.

The way that Peter’s heart jumped in both surprise and excitement was enough to wake him up. He held up an index finger to Michael to tell him to hold on as he tried his best to quietly open his door; annoyance teemed a bit underneath his happiness to see his boyfriend--did he have any idea what time it was?

But it was only the tiniest amount, and by the time Peter got to the front door to see him, it was all gone.

“Peter,” Michael breathed, a smile creeping across his face as he pulled him into a hug, “Peter. Hey.”

“Mikey, it’s three-o-clock in the morning,” Peter weakly protested, throwing his arms around his boyfriend. He somewhat regretted holding him as tight as he did; his jumpsuit seemed to be covered in grease and oil and made Peter’s clean hands feel dirty and grimy. At the same time though, that was his love, and Peter never wanted to let him go. It was Michael that released him first and stepped back, holding out the dying yellow flower with a huge grin on his face, as if he was indifferent to it being on its last legs.

“Here. Here, this is for you.”

Peter took it somewhat reluctantly, beginning to grow concerned at Michael’s apparent energy despite the heavy bags beneath his eyes and his state of cleanliness.

“T-Thank you,” Peter smiled gently, looking down at it. “Um. What k-kind of flower is it?”

“Daffodil,” Michael explained, Peter noting of the crazed look in his boyfriend’s sharp blue eyes, making his smile slowly fade. “I picked it out of a field I passed on my way back from work. I remember my mum telling me a long, long time ago that daffodils are special because they symbolize new beginnings.”

“How beautiful,” Peter mused, biting the inside of his cheek. Michael didn’t seem to notice his withdrawnness, sticking his hands in his pockets.

“Just like you,” Michael added on, a genuine smile on his face when Peter looked up at him, cheeks blushing darker in flattery.

“Michael--a-are you okay?” Peter finally brought himself to ask, averting his eyes. The tall young man frowned, shoulders falling a bit.

“I’m alright, I think,” the Afton son said, “but if I’m being honest, I came here to talk to you about something urgent.”

The timid man felt himself go weak in the knees, eyes immediately welling with tears and body closing in on itself. “A-Are you breaking up with m-m-me...?”

“No--! No, no, I’m not breaking up with you, no!” Michael hurriedly took his boyfriend into a bear hug before Peter could start thinking about every possible thing he could’ve done wrong. “As long as you can stand me, I’ll never break up with you.”

Peter held on to his boyfriend, resting his head on his shoulder and closing his eyes; he was so tired, he could’ve fallen asleep right there.

“You just s-seem so... hysterical, Mikey,” Peter explained softly, face buried into his neck, “You’re so awake. I-It’s the middle of the night and you’re--you’re throwing rocks at my window, and I, uh... I’m s-sorry, Michael, I’m just a little confused. Why are you here? Didn’t you just get o-off of work?”

The manager had his free hand pressed to his boss’s son’s back, and when he asked his question, he felt his spine tense. Michael slid calloused hands up to Peter’s shoulders to gently nudge him away; the smaller of the two had his mouth open in confused concern that only intensified when Michael slipped his hands into one of his and squeezed tightly.

“Peter, I want you to run away with me,” Michael urgently said, and Peter reeled back, unsure if he heard right.

_ “W-What--?”  _  Peter choked, a little louder than he would have liked. He went into a small coughing spell, Michael’s hand on his back as he bent down a little to try and see him eye to eye.

“I can’t stay here, baby. This town is going to eat us both alive.” Michael was shaking his head in reference to what he was saying and Peter very desperately wanted to kiss him right on his pretty lips to shut him up and tell him  _ yes, yes, of course I will _ and leave right then and there; they could be gone before the sun even came up.

But they both had responsibilities.

“Michael, I-I can’t--”

“--Peter. Peter, please, baby, listen to me, please--”

“--We can’t just up and leave; our parents would--”

“--My father doesn’t give two  _ shits  _ about me,” Michael raised his voice a bit, to which Peter flinched and covered his mouth.

_ “P-Please _ be quiet, Mikey, my p-parents will wake up,” Peter begged, “It’s okay, M-Mikey, please.”

“This town is going to kill me,” Michael whispered beneath Peter’s hand, “It killed my cousin and it killed my sister and it killed my brother and it’s going to kill me next. It’ll kill you, too.”

Peter just listened in delicate silence. The brunet man lifted his hand to place over his boyfriend’s, caressing it with his thumb. Peter watched him as tears began to slip down dirty cheeks, leaving streaks behind through the grease, and in that moment found himself admiring his beauty. Michael had a handsome face and eyes so blue and so captivating that when he looked into Peter’s he could make him forget what he was saying; his curly brown hair hung in his face sometimes. When it was unkempt, Peter wanted to lay in his arms and run his fingers through those curls for hours, but when it was slicked back or done in some sort of way when he needed to be professional, Peter had to resist the urge to grab his face and kiss his cheeks off. He knew Michael hated when he had to put on a show for the Fazbear Entertainment executives and the people at the robotics conferences; he had this image to maintain that he was just a carbon copy of his father, and Peter knew this wasn’t true at all. Michael was anxious and a klutz and a bit of a crybaby. Michael liked soap operas and chocolate ice cream and going on cheesy dates.

Michael loved him with his entire heart and then some, which was something even Peter had come to realize that Mr. Afton would never be able to do for anyone but himself.

“I don’t want it to get you,” Michael cried, Peter dropping his hand to reveal his boyfriend’s entire face, “It can’t get to you. I don’t think I have much time left so I need to save you while I can.”

“M-Mikey, please don’t talk like that,” Peter murmured, wiping the wetness off of Michael’s cheeks, “We’re okay.”

“We’re adults, Peter, we could just go. We can move in together someplace far away and once we’re settled we can marry. I--I’ll even take your last name, fuck it, or you can take mine, whichever you want. I want to spend the rest of my life with you but I can’t do that with both mine and my father’s sins on my back and us both as sitting ducks.”

“Michael,” Peter breathed.

“You don’t have to just leave your parents though. I have something important I need to do tomorrow night, so we can’t leave until at  _ least  _ tomorrow morning. You can tell them goodbye; I promise, Peter.”

“Mike,” Peter repeated.

“I love you, Peter. I love you  _ so  _ much and if you die so young and so terrible I wouldn’t be able to--”

The hysterical man was cut off by his boyfriend’s lips crashing into his, hands passionately weaving up into his dirty hair. Michael stood stunned for only a second before he kissed back, wrapping one arm around his waist and the other at the top of his back, feeling his boyfriend lean closer into him as a result. The two lovers kissed and embraced and never wanted to part from the other in fear that they’d never get to be this close again. Michael returned the action of running his hands through Peter’s curly black hair, the latter melting in his arms.

After what seemed only like a couple of seconds, the boys separated, the taller unable to speak.

“I love you too, Mikey,” Peter smiled, bringing a hand up to Michael’s cheek. Michael’s heart skipped a beat; they were going to seal the deal.

“I love you, but...” Peter’s smile warped sadly and Michael’s heart fell into his stomach. “I can’t leave with you, Michael, I’m sorry.”

Michael opened his mouth to protest but no words came out; his lips were still numb.

“W-We have responsibilities, baby; we can’t just leave out of nowhere. What about the restaurant?”

“Fuck the restaurant,” Michael pleaded, his exhaustion beginning to catch up to him as he felt Peter slipping away, “It’ll function fine without us.”

“I actually like my job,” Peter said, sheepishly picking at the petals of the daffodil, “I don’t know i-if I could find someplace else I’d enjoy anywhere n-near as much.”

“It’s nothing like when Dad and Henry had full control over it and you know it!” Michael crossed his arms in a pout. “Management fucking sucks! They’d replace us in a heartbeat; they’ll promote somebody else to manager and find a new maintenance man-slash-costume character. It’ll be fine, Peter--”

“--Michael, I love you, b-but I don’t want to talk about this anymore. My answer is no. I’m sorry.”

The two stood in silence on Peter’s doorstep, moths twinkling around the porch light above their head. Michael wanted to sob. He didn’t understand. He thought he was crazy. He was going to die and he had no idea.

“Have you h-had a couple of drinks?” Peter quietly asked amidst the silence. Michael was offended but tried his best to hide it.

“You know I don’t drink because of my father’s alcoholism.”

More silence. Crickets chirped from within the bushes and Peter shifted the leg he was keeping his weight on.

“Michael, i-it’s late. Come inside; you can t-take a shower and stay here for the night.”

The Afton son shook his head, feeling himself growing a bit dissociative; a trait he inherited from his father that showed itself whenever he didn’t get his way. “A new episode of  _ The Immortal & the Restless  _ comes on at 5:30. I don’t want to miss it.”

“You can watch it here--”

“--No, that’s alright.” Michael zipped his jumpsuit a bit higher uncomfortably. “I, um. I should probably get going.”

“Michael, p-please don’t take that the wrong way,” Peter reached for his boyfriend’s rough hands, “I want to go with you s-so--so badly. I just can’t right now. In time, o-okay?”

When he said nothing, Peter squeezed Michael’s hands and gave him a teary smile. “W-What you said... about marrying me. I’d love to take y-your name. I want to spend the rest of m-my life with you  _ just  _ like you want with me. O-Okay? I love you, Michael. I don’t want you to t-think I don’t.”

The tired, traumatized man stood and stared into his boyfriend’s pretty green eyes, admiring how they looked against his brown skin. He felt all of the horrors of his past bubble up--searching for Charlie past midnight on Halloween when he was 6 only to find her body, accidentally killing his brother and apologizing to him profusely even though he couldn’t hear him anymore, his father coming home in a fit of tears with Elizabeth’s mangled body in his arms. An accident. Losing his mother, watching his father and Henry drift farther apart and fight a lot of the time, falling into a deep depression and wanting to die.

Those green eyes helped ground him. Those green eyes as well as the man behind them helped him feel safe and loved and comfortable enough with himself to keep on living for just a while longer.

And while he greatly feared the pit in his stomach that told him something very, very bad was going to happen, he needed to trust those eyes more.

So he did.

“I know,” Michael kissed Peter on his lips for the final time that night, stepping down the few concrete steps. “I love you too. I’ll wait for you. I’ll wait for as long as I need to.”

Peter hugged himself to try and keep himself warm against the wind, watching his boyfriend walk back to his car. His cheeks were crisp with cold but burned with the heat that flooded there, feeling himself fall deeper and deeper into love with the man he’d fallen for the moment he laid eyes on him.

“I believe you,” Peter called out to him. Michael opened the car door, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it in one swift movement in preparation for the ride home.

“Please be careful until then, Peter,” Michael took a drag, blowing the smoke out of his nose, “I don’t want to see you hurt, okay?”

Peter nodded, still clutching his daffodil in his right hand, and watched his love back out of his driveway and pull away, waving at him as he went. Even after he was gone Peter stood on his porch for a minute or two, processing what they had talked about.

Once he was satisfied, he went inside to put his flower in water before going back to bed, falling asleep almost instantly with the scent of his boyfriend on his clothes. (And maybe a little bit of oil and grease and other maintenance-man things.)

And, appropriate to the town of Hurricane and its tendency to swallow people whole,

they never saw each other again.

**Author's Note:**

> daffodils, in a bouquet, symbolize new beginnings.
> 
> a lone daffodil symbolizes impending misfortune.
> 
> 🌼


End file.
